To answer your questions:
1. This will be continuing in this thread.
2. And this is why this particular game is the most fun I've had in CK2 in a while
An Album of Ice and Fire - AGOT Mod (SPOILER ALERT)
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To answer your questions:
1. This will be continuing in this thread.
2. And this is why this particular game is the most fun I've had in CK2 in a while
Okay, thanks for responding. I wish you luck, but I'm still trying to figure out how. All seven kingdoms try to become independent, the Tullys rebel against Robb, and maybe Dany? Or the other contender from Essos?
Part I - Tyrion
"Tell me, Lord Slynt, when your men slaughtered Ned Stark's men in the throne room, did you give the orders?"
"I did, my lord," Slynt replied. "And I would do it again. You know the traitor tried to buy my loyalty."
Tyrion took a sip of wine. "A fool, that Lord Stark. He should have known that you had already been bought."
Lord Janos put down his fork. "Are you questioning my honor, Imp?"
"Of course not, my lord. I cannot question what does not exist."
"I will not stand here and be insulted by you, dwarf!" Janos seethed. "Lord Baelish will here of this! Your sister will here of this!" Seeting with anger, he grabbed Tyrion's goblet and emptied it over his head, before throwing it at the wall.
Tyrion sighed; this was going about as well as he had feared. "No, my lord, you will not stand here and insult me." Behind the Lord of Harrenhal, two hidden doors opened - thanks to Varys's help, of course - revealing Bronn and Ser Jacelyn Bywater. "I intend to serve as Hand of the King for quite some time, Slynt, and considering the unfortunate fates of the last two Hands, some changes need to be made. And seeing as you betrayed the last Hand, well, I just would not feel safe with you around." Bronn and Ser Jacelyn grabbed him from behind, and started leading him to the door. "Say hello to Bronn, the King's new Master-of-Arms, and Jacelyn Bywater, the new Commander of the Gold Cloaks. As you know, King's Landing is very dangerous at night, so they will escort you to the docks. There's a ship leaving for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea on the morrow - the Wall looks very beautiful at this time of year."
As Bronn pushed him out the door, Janos yelled. "Joffrey will hear about this!" Beyond that, Tyrion heard no more, as the walls muffled the noise.
After several minutes passed, the door opened. "Ser, Lord Littlefinger, I mean, Lord Baelish, is here to see you."
"Send him in."
The master of coin entered, clearly annoyed. "I hear that Lord Janos has been escorted from the Red Keep by armed guards, screaming for your head. What have you to say about that?"
Tyrion shrugged. "Nothing. As far as I understand, he simply decided that he would best serve the realm as a member of the Night's Watch."
"Do you take me for a fool? Lord Janos is craven and greedy, and would never take the black willingly. I see your play, Lord Tyrion, but it was not a winning move. All you did was put a man loyal to Varys in charge of the gold cloaks," Littlefinger responded."
"Who answers to the Master-of-Arms, who is my own. I am not Ned Stark; I know how the game is played, Lord Baelish." Tyrion picked up his cup. "Wine?"
"No thank you, my lord."
"More for me, then." Tyrion took a sip, then continued. "I take that your being here, and not on a spike in Highgarden, means that our mission has been a success." When Petyr nodded assent, he went on. "Now what is it that you offered Lord Tyrell? Certainly revenge for the death of his daughter's wife and son's lover was not enough. A seat on the council, I'm sure, but what else? Or rather, what marriage did you agree to?"
"Lady Margaery, Renly's unconsummated widow, to Joffrey." Silence hung in the air. "Of course, that means the wedding to the Stark girl..."
"Yes, yes, I know what that means," Tyrion snapped. "It will not look good, Joff setting her aside for another, although I am sure Lady Sansa would not be disappointed. It will take some work to convince my sister, but we need those swords."
"Very good, my lord Hand. I will have Maester Pycelle send a raven; expect the Tyrell girl within the fortnight, as well as Ser Loras, who wishes to join the Kingsguard. The armies of the Reach will be assembled and ready in time to engage Stannis's army before he sieges King's Landing."
"Excellent." That was one ally. "Now, a new request. How acquainted are you with Lysa Arryn?"
"Very, as you well know. What does that concern?"
"You have given us the Reach, Lord Baelish; now we need the Vale. I want you to use your influence with Lady Arryn to sway them to our side."
Baelish shook his head. "She will not betray her sister. I assure you, the best I can do will be to keep the armies of the Vale from leaving the Vale."
"Even just that is not a bad result. But you are mischievous man, Lord Baelish - you can make things work. There are plenty of unmarried lords and ladies in King's Landing who would be eager for an opportunity in the Eyrie."
The master of coin smiled. "Creating opportunities is my specialty, my good Hand. You will not be disappointed." And with that, he left.
Disappointed? Of course not. Littlefinger does not disappoint, even when he betrays you. Of course, to be betrayed, one has to trust, and unlike Ned Stark, Tyrion did not trust Petyr Baelish, which is why Tyrion preferred to keep him away from King's Landing as much as possible.
"That is a most wise decision, my lord. That man would burn all Westeros if he could be king of the ashes."
Of course Varys had been listening the entire time. "And you...everyone here in King's Landing has some sort of greater purpose, but you...you do not fight for family, and does a man cut have honor?"
Varys walked towards Tyrion. "As I told Ned Stark, I serve the realm, and no one else; somebody has to." He picked up a knife from the table. "A blacksmith in Lys forged this blade, which was bought by a Myrenese merchant for use at his daughter's wedding before being seized by the Iron Bank and sold at auction to a Westerosi knight to pay for the debt on a defaulted loan, where it was given as a gift to the Hand of the King and has been used by the office at dinner ever since."
"That is a wonderful story, Lord Varys, but I literally do not see the point of it."
"Every tool has its tale that makes it what it is. What are people but tools that breathe?" With that, he stabbed the knife into the table, then turned his focus back to Tyrion. "Bravo, I must say. The Master-at-Arms is your man. Lord Baelish and Janos Slynt are out of your way. But while you and Cersei split the small council, she still controls the Treasury, the stewards, and a spy network of her own. Of course, if Joffrey listens to anyone, it will be your sister, and never you. And when the Tyrell girl arrives...well, all my little birdies agree that she is an ambitious one, and will not be content as a pretty face standing next to Joffrey and having his babies, but means to be a force - or rather, the force - behind the throne."
Tyrion scratched his chin. "And she will find most blocking her way is the Queen Mother, which means she and I share a common foe in court. And as we have a vacancy on the council, let her act as Master of Laws and dispense the King's Justice - at the very least, she'll do it better than Joffrey," And if she follows in the reputation of her grandmother, she will make Joffrey too distracted to care.
"That is most prudent, my lord. And she may help you win Joffrey from her mother."
With that, a young squire burst into the room. "My lord Hand, a raven has arrived from Casterly Rock. Your father has been captured in battle by the usurper Stark, and his army is headed this way!"
So, underneath my post, I will keep a tally of all the kings we have met (when they have declared themselves kings, of course.) Now, I will say now, for the name "War of the Nine Kings," this assumes that a king's heir, if the succession is direct, does not count as a new king, but if the heir must seize the throne later, it does.
And so far we have:
1. Joffrey Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne
2. Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands
3. Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands (deceased)
4. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident
5. Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles (invading the North)
That leaves us four more. Who are they? What are their motivations? And who should we trust (the answer is nobody, not even the POV characters, or me
"Tell me, Lord Slynt, when your men slaughtered Ned Stark's men in the throne room, did you give the orders?"
"I did, my lord," Slynt replied. "And I would do it again. You know the traitor tried to buy my loyalty."
Tyrion took a sip of wine. "A fool, that Lord Stark. He should have known that you had already been bought."
Lord Janos put down his fork. "Are you questioning my honor, Imp?"
"Of course not, my lord. I cannot question what does not exist."
"I will not stand here and be insulted by you, dwarf!" Janos seethed. "Lord Baelish will here of this! Your sister will here of this!" Seeting with anger, he grabbed Tyrion's goblet and emptied it over his head, before throwing it at the wall.
Tyrion sighed; this was going about as well as he had feared. "No, my lord, you will not stand here and insult me." Behind the Lord of Harrenhal, two hidden doors opened - thanks to Varys's help, of course - revealing Bronn and Ser Jacelyn Bywater. "I intend to serve as Hand of the King for quite some time, Slynt, and considering the unfortunate fates of the last two Hands, some changes need to be made. And seeing as you betrayed the last Hand, well, I just would not feel safe with you around." Bronn and Ser Jacelyn grabbed him from behind, and started leading him to the door. "Say hello to Bronn, the King's new Master-of-Arms, and Jacelyn Bywater, the new Commander of the Gold Cloaks. As you know, King's Landing is very dangerous at night, so they will escort you to the docks. There's a ship leaving for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea on the morrow - the Wall looks very beautiful at this time of year."
As Bronn pushed him out the door, Janos yelled. "Joffrey will hear about this!" Beyond that, Tyrion heard no more, as the walls muffled the noise.
After several minutes passed, the door opened. "Ser, Lord Littlefinger, I mean, Lord Baelish, is here to see you."
"Send him in."
The master of coin entered, clearly annoyed. "I hear that Lord Janos has been escorted from the Red Keep by armed guards, screaming for your head. What have you to say about that?"
Tyrion shrugged. "Nothing. As far as I understand, he simply decided that he would best serve the realm as a member of the Night's Watch."
"Do you take me for a fool? Lord Janos is craven and greedy, and would never take the black willingly. I see your play, Lord Tyrion, but it was not a winning move. All you did was put a man loyal to Varys in charge of the gold cloaks," Littlefinger responded."
"Who answers to the Master-of-Arms, who is my own. I am not Ned Stark; I know how the game is played, Lord Baelish." Tyrion picked up his cup. "Wine?"
"No thank you, my lord."
"More for me, then." Tyrion took a sip, then continued. "I take that your being here, and not on a spike in Highgarden, means that our mission has been a success." When Petyr nodded assent, he went on. "Now what is it that you offered Lord Tyrell? Certainly revenge for the death of his daughter's wife and son's lover was not enough. A seat on the council, I'm sure, but what else? Or rather, what marriage did you agree to?"
"Lady Margaery, Renly's unconsummated widow, to Joffrey." Silence hung in the air. "Of course, that means the wedding to the Stark girl..."
"Yes, yes, I know what that means," Tyrion snapped. "It will not look good, Joff setting her aside for another, although I am sure Lady Sansa would not be disappointed. It will take some work to convince my sister, but we need those swords."
"Excellent." That was one ally. "Now, a new request. How acquainted are you with Lysa Arryn?"
"Very, as you well know. What does that concern?"
"You have given us the Reach, Lord Baelish; now we need the Vale. I want you to use your influence with Lady Arryn to sway them to our side."
Baelish shook his head. "She will not betray her sister. I assure you, the best I can do will be to keep the armies of the Vale from leaving the Vale."
"Even just that is not a bad result. But you are mischievous man, Lord Baelish - you can make things work. There are plenty of unmarried lords and ladies in King's Landing who would be eager for an opportunity in the Eyrie."
The master of coin smiled. "Creating opportunities is my specialty, my good Hand. You will not be disappointed." And with that, he left.
Disappointed? Of course not. Littlefinger does not disappoint, even when he betrays you. Of course, to be betrayed, one has to trust, and unlike Ned Stark, Tyrion did not trust Petyr Baelish, which is why Tyrion preferred to keep him away from King's Landing as much as possible.
"That is a most wise decision, my lord. That man would burn all Westeros if he could be king of the ashes."
Of course Varys had been listening the entire time. "And you...everyone here in King's Landing has some sort of greater purpose, but you...you do not fight for family, and does a man cut have honor?"
Varys walked towards Tyrion. "As I told Ned Stark, I serve the realm, and no one else; somebody has to." He picked up a knife from the table. "A blacksmith in Lys forged this blade, which was bought by a Myrenese merchant for use at his daughter's wedding before being seized by the Iron Bank and sold at auction to a Westerosi knight to pay for the debt on a defaulted loan, where it was given as a gift to the Hand of the King and has been used by the office at dinner ever since."
"That is a wonderful story, Lord Varys, but I literally do not see the point of it."
"Every tool has its tale that makes it what it is. What are people but tools that breathe?" With that, he stabbed the knife into the table, then turned his focus back to Tyrion. "Bravo, I must say. The Master-at-Arms is your man. Lord Baelish and Janos Slynt are out of your way. But while you and Cersei split the small council, she still controls the Treasury, the stewards, and a spy network of her own. Of course, if Joffrey listens to anyone, it will be your sister, and never you. And when the Tyrell girl arrives...well, all my little birdies agree that she is an ambitious one, and will not be content as a pretty face standing next to Joffrey and having his babies, but means to be a force - or rather, the force - behind the throne."
Tyrion scratched his chin. "And she will find most blocking her way is the Queen Mother, which means she and I share a common foe in court. And as we have a vacancy on the council, let her act as Master of Laws and dispense the King's Justice - at the very least, she'll do it better than Joffrey," And if she follows in the reputation of her grandmother, she will make Joffrey too distracted to care.
With that, a young squire burst into the room. "My lord Hand, a raven has arrived from Casterly Rock. Your father has been captured in battle by the usurper Stark, and his army is headed this way!"
___________________________________________________________________________________
So, underneath my post, I will keep a tally of all the kings we have met (when they have declared themselves kings, of course.) Now, I will say now, for the name "War of the Nine Kings," this assumes that a king's heir, if the succession is direct, does not count as a new king, but if the heir must seize the throne later, it does.
And so far we have:
1. Joffrey Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne
2. Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands
3. Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands (deceased)
4. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident
5. Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles (invading the North)
That leaves us four more. Who are they? What are their motivations? And who should we trust (the answer is nobody, not even the POV characters, or me
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Doran, Robin Arryn, Dany and Mance.
Mace never declares independence and Aegon never shows up when you want him too.
Mace never declares independence and Aegon never shows up when you want him too.
Fantastic job writing Tyrion. Having such a powerful Small Council will help you out. Who is your tutor? I know its difficult making Joffrey turn out well, but I have seen the boy end up with good stats. Also, lucky for you Balon didn't decide to side with Robb; that would make a difficult war even worse.
As for the 4 missing Kings... I've seen Mace Tyrell declare independence enough times to bet he is one of them, despite the fact that his mother would probably kill him before she would allow that in the books. Mance is so far removed from the situation that I doubt he is one, unless he takes the Wall. The Young Griff and Dany are certainly possibilities. I'll take a gamble and bet the Martells go for independence. Unlikely, yes, but not impossible. The War of the Five Kings wasn't an accurate title, as there were never five kings alive, so having a Prince or Princess in the War of the Nine Kings isn't too hard to believe.
My bet:
1. Mace Tyrell
2. Doran Martell
3. Dany 'Way Too Many Titles'
4. The Young Griff
As for the 4 missing Kings... I've seen Mace Tyrell declare independence enough times to bet he is one of them, despite the fact that his mother would probably kill him before she would allow that in the books. Mance is so far removed from the situation that I doubt he is one, unless he takes the Wall. The Young Griff and Dany are certainly possibilities. I'll take a gamble and bet the Martells go for independence. Unlikely, yes, but not impossible. The War of the Five Kings wasn't an accurate title, as there were never five kings alive, so having a Prince or Princess in the War of the Nine Kings isn't too hard to believe.
My bet:
1. Mace Tyrell
2. Doran Martell
3. Dany 'Way Too Many Titles'
4. The Young Griff
Doran, Robin Arryn, Dany and Mance.
Mace never declares independence and Aegon never shows up when you want him too.
I've seen Mace declare for the throne a bunch of times because the Iron Bank will give him the CB.
Great writing, it really feels like I am reading the books or the show's script.
Part II - Sansa
The invitation seemed innocent enough, but that did not stop Sansa's stomach from turning in knots every time she read it. She was young, she was beautiful, and most importantly, she was to be queen; what did Margaery Tyrell want with the disgraced daughter of a traitor, especially in her suite at the tourney in her honor. Perhaps curiosity, to find out more about the girl Joffrey set aside for her.
After donning a light blue dress embroidered with flowers, a gift from Joffrey before her father's death, Sansa read the invitation once more. It was written in Margaery's own hand, as far as she could tell. She wondered if Joffrey had known - she was to be in a seat of honor next to the future queen, if the invitation was to be believed, and so everybody would see her - or if it had even been the King's own idea. Perhaps it was nothing but an act of courtesy...but this was not Winterfell, it was King's Landing, the capital of Joffrey Baratheon: nothing was ever what it seemed to be. Even so, she was nothing but the disgraced daughter of a traitor and sister of a rebelling lord; she must accept the Tyrell's offer.
At the appointed time, Sansa walked to the tournament, escorted by Ser Meryn Trant. Since the Tyrell armies were able to re-open some roads to King's Landing, food was no longer the scarcity it had been in the weeks prior, and thus Joffrey decreed that, in order to raise the morale of the city which would be under siege by Stannis's army at the very least within the moon, the royal wedding would be a citywide feast and celebration, beginning with a tourney in honor of his future wife and followed on the morrow by an elaborate feast of ninety-seven courses, of which seventeen would be made available in some form to the smallfolk and funded by the crown.
When they arrived at the lists, Ser Meryn paused behind the queen's box, cleared his throat, and announced Sansa; when Margaery stood and turned to greet her, Sansa knelt. "You do me great honor, Your Grace."
"Won't you please call me Margaery? Please, rise." She turned to one of her grandmother's guards. "Erryk, help the lady to her feet." Turning back to Sansa, she continued. "May I call you Sansa?"
"If it please Your Grace."
She took Sansa by the hand and led her to the seat on the queen's left. "May I present to you my grandmother, the Lady Olenna, widow of the late Luthor Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden."
Olenna smiled. "Sit, sit child," she said, gesturing to the seat on Margaery's right. "Thank you for coming and joining our foolish flock of hens, especially at the tourney. You know what a terrible bore these things can be - after a while they all blend into each other; the only thing that changes is what fool falls off his horse last."
Both her tone and words did not surprise Sansa; Lady Tyrell's sharp tongue had earned her the nickname the Queen of Thorns long ago. "It is very kind of you to have me, my lady."
Below them, the Queen Cersei thanked all in attendance and announced the beginning of the tournament with the first round between Podrick Payne, the Hand's squire, and Joffrey. "The king has entered the lists?" Sansa asked.
"Why yes," the Queen of Thorns answered with a frown. "The boy said that he must honor my granddaughter by joining the lists. He ought to honor her by not getting himself killed out there. But that does mean we can talk freely." She turned to Sansa. "He seems kingly enough, but we heard some, well, troubling stories. Tell me, child, did he mistreat you?"
Sansa glanced about nervously. Below them, Joffrey knocked Payne off his horse, then smiled and bowed to his queen-to-be before riding back, ready for his next bout. Was this a trap? "He is, uh, very comely, and, uh..."
"Does a lion have your tongue, child? Speak!" Olenna ordered. Sansa tried to speak, but no words came out. "I see. Very well then, at least we know what we are up against. Now, Margaery, I would like some cheese, and bring some lemon cakes for Lady Sansa."
For a while, they sat and watched the tourney mostly in silence, with occasional remarks from Lady Olenna or Margaery about one of the knights in the list. By the time the final round was approaching, with Joffrey facing Jothos Slynt, Sansa had been caught up on all the gossip in the Seven Kingdoms since Aegon the Unlikely sat on the Iron Throne.
"Excuse me, Your Grace, my ladies. May I join you for the final round?" came a voice behind them.
Margaery turned. "My lord Hand, we would be honored if you would join us. Arryk, please get a chair for my lord."
"There is no need, my queen. I have merely come to ask if you have considered your appointment to the small council."
"I would be honored to serve as the King's Master of Laws, Lord Tyrion," Margaery answered. "But surely there is someone more qualified than I, as I have had no experience in either legal matters or governing."
Tyrion glanced around, then whispered. "If I may speak freely, yes, there are a number of nobles in King's Landing more qualified for the position - the Grand Maester Pycelle, or Mathis Rowan, for instance. But when my lord father sent me here, he instructed me to fix the mess that was Joffrey's early reign. And that means seizing control of the small council from my sister."
"Ah yes, the Queen Tart herself," Olenna interjected. "Now, tell me of the boy King; I have heard many stories, and am apt to know whether there is any truth to them."
The Imp cleared his throat. "The boy...well, he has the stubbornness of his mother and his father's...fierce spirit."
A scream came from below. Sansa turned and saw Joffrey on the ground, unhorsed by Slynt. "You...you dare defeat me? You will curse this day until your death!"
Margaery sighed. "Reining him in looks like it will be hard enough even without his mother interfering. She will make it near-impossible."
Tyrion smiled and pulled a scroll from his tunic. "I believe Littlefinger has helped Harrold Hardying, Lord of the Vale, solve that problem for us."
List of Kings:
1. Joffrey Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne
2. Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands
3. Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands (deceased)
4. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident
5. Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles (invading the North)
The invitation seemed innocent enough, but that did not stop Sansa's stomach from turning in knots every time she read it. She was young, she was beautiful, and most importantly, she was to be queen; what did Margaery Tyrell want with the disgraced daughter of a traitor, especially in her suite at the tourney in her honor. Perhaps curiosity, to find out more about the girl Joffrey set aside for her.
After donning a light blue dress embroidered with flowers, a gift from Joffrey before her father's death, Sansa read the invitation once more. It was written in Margaery's own hand, as far as she could tell. She wondered if Joffrey had known - she was to be in a seat of honor next to the future queen, if the invitation was to be believed, and so everybody would see her - or if it had even been the King's own idea. Perhaps it was nothing but an act of courtesy...but this was not Winterfell, it was King's Landing, the capital of Joffrey Baratheon: nothing was ever what it seemed to be. Even so, she was nothing but the disgraced daughter of a traitor and sister of a rebelling lord; she must accept the Tyrell's offer.
At the appointed time, Sansa walked to the tournament, escorted by Ser Meryn Trant. Since the Tyrell armies were able to re-open some roads to King's Landing, food was no longer the scarcity it had been in the weeks prior, and thus Joffrey decreed that, in order to raise the morale of the city which would be under siege by Stannis's army at the very least within the moon, the royal wedding would be a citywide feast and celebration, beginning with a tourney in honor of his future wife and followed on the morrow by an elaborate feast of ninety-seven courses, of which seventeen would be made available in some form to the smallfolk and funded by the crown.
When they arrived at the lists, Ser Meryn paused behind the queen's box, cleared his throat, and announced Sansa; when Margaery stood and turned to greet her, Sansa knelt. "You do me great honor, Your Grace."
"Won't you please call me Margaery? Please, rise." She turned to one of her grandmother's guards. "Erryk, help the lady to her feet." Turning back to Sansa, she continued. "May I call you Sansa?"
"If it please Your Grace."
She took Sansa by the hand and led her to the seat on the queen's left. "May I present to you my grandmother, the Lady Olenna, widow of the late Luthor Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden."
Olenna smiled. "Sit, sit child," she said, gesturing to the seat on Margaery's right. "Thank you for coming and joining our foolish flock of hens, especially at the tourney. You know what a terrible bore these things can be - after a while they all blend into each other; the only thing that changes is what fool falls off his horse last."
Both her tone and words did not surprise Sansa; Lady Tyrell's sharp tongue had earned her the nickname the Queen of Thorns long ago. "It is very kind of you to have me, my lady."
Below them, the Queen Cersei thanked all in attendance and announced the beginning of the tournament with the first round between Podrick Payne, the Hand's squire, and Joffrey. "The king has entered the lists?" Sansa asked.
"Why yes," the Queen of Thorns answered with a frown. "The boy said that he must honor my granddaughter by joining the lists. He ought to honor her by not getting himself killed out there. But that does mean we can talk freely." She turned to Sansa. "He seems kingly enough, but we heard some, well, troubling stories. Tell me, child, did he mistreat you?"
Sansa glanced about nervously. Below them, Joffrey knocked Payne off his horse, then smiled and bowed to his queen-to-be before riding back, ready for his next bout. Was this a trap? "He is, uh, very comely, and, uh..."
"Does a lion have your tongue, child? Speak!" Olenna ordered. Sansa tried to speak, but no words came out. "I see. Very well then, at least we know what we are up against. Now, Margaery, I would like some cheese, and bring some lemon cakes for Lady Sansa."
For a while, they sat and watched the tourney mostly in silence, with occasional remarks from Lady Olenna or Margaery about one of the knights in the list. By the time the final round was approaching, with Joffrey facing Jothos Slynt, Sansa had been caught up on all the gossip in the Seven Kingdoms since Aegon the Unlikely sat on the Iron Throne.
"Excuse me, Your Grace, my ladies. May I join you for the final round?" came a voice behind them.
Margaery turned. "My lord Hand, we would be honored if you would join us. Arryk, please get a chair for my lord."
"There is no need, my queen. I have merely come to ask if you have considered your appointment to the small council."
"I would be honored to serve as the King's Master of Laws, Lord Tyrion," Margaery answered. "But surely there is someone more qualified than I, as I have had no experience in either legal matters or governing."
Tyrion glanced around, then whispered. "If I may speak freely, yes, there are a number of nobles in King's Landing more qualified for the position - the Grand Maester Pycelle, or Mathis Rowan, for instance. But when my lord father sent me here, he instructed me to fix the mess that was Joffrey's early reign. And that means seizing control of the small council from my sister."
"Ah yes, the Queen Tart herself," Olenna interjected. "Now, tell me of the boy King; I have heard many stories, and am apt to know whether there is any truth to them."
The Imp cleared his throat. "The boy...well, he has the stubbornness of his mother and his father's...fierce spirit."
A scream came from below. Sansa turned and saw Joffrey on the ground, unhorsed by Slynt. "You...you dare defeat me? You will curse this day until your death!"
Margaery sighed. "Reining him in looks like it will be hard enough even without his mother interfering. She will make it near-impossible."
Tyrion smiled and pulled a scroll from his tunic. "I believe Littlefinger has helped Harrold Hardying, Lord of the Vale, solve that problem for us."
_______________________________________________________________________________
List of Kings:
1. Joffrey Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne
2. Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands
3. Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands (deceased)
4. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident
5. Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles (invading the North)
Doran, Robin Arryn, Dany and Mance.
Mace never declares independence and Aegon never shows up when you want him too.
I'll say this...you guys have some right, and some wrong. All I'll say is, it's an interesting dynamic.
Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it!
Just caught up. That epilogue was masterful.
Thanks! I figured it would be a nice, bittersweet way to end it, and finally put the two brothers together, fighting side-by-side...where they truly always belonged
Ah, the Queen of Thorns... She is such a great character. Nice job writing Sansa's timid personality, and adding the tease at the end. Is Little Robin already gone then? Please tell me he flew. I guess that means we have a new candidate for a potential king.
Part III - Cersei
"Stannis Baratheon is coming after us, sooner rather than later. And Robb Stark has won battle after battle in the Riverlands and is marching on Harrenhal. We need their swords."
Her brother had ambushed her outside the small council chamber with the fruit of his new scheme. He had already replaced half the small council with his own men, and she was sure the dwarf was plotting with the Tyrell girl; now he thought he could remove her from the capital entirely. "I am the Queen, not some broodmare, not one of Petyr Baelish's whores bought and sold."
"You are the daughter of the Lord of Casterly Rock; some would say it is what you were born to do, that it's your duty."
"And I married Robert Baratheon and gave birth to three children - I would say my duty is already done."
Tyrion took her hand. "Sweet, sweet sister. Marry Lord Harrold and grant him a seat on the small council, and you can remain here in King's Landing and producing heirs with our dear brother Jaime."
She slapped him. "Do not speak to me like that again unless you want to wake up dressed in black for the rest of your life - if I am feeling generous at the time."
He rubbed his face, but continued. "Cersei, Varys's spies report that a large army has set out from the Vale, and it appears they are headed for Harrenhal - whether or not he attacks Stark's army or joins forces with it will either win or lose us this war; your marriage to the Lord of the Vale is the only thing that guarantees his army will be on our side."
Tyrion tried to continue, but Cersei put up her hand. "Enough. You asked, and my answer is no - and sine I am the Queen Regent and you are merely acting as the Hand of the King, my decision trumps yours; the matter is settled. Now, if you may, there is a council meeting the both of us must attend to." Her brother grimaced, but assented, and opened the door.
The two siblings were the last to arrive, as was not unusual, and on their arrival all in attendance stood - Grand Maester Pycelle, Tyrion's swordwhore Bronn, Lord Varys. All except Margaery Tyrell. What value she brought as the Master of Laws Cersei did not know; she was convinced the only reason her brother had brought the girl on was to infuriate her.
Once everyone settled back in their seats, Cersei began. "Grand Maester Pycelle, at the conclusion of this meeting lease send a raven to the Lord of the Vale thanking him for his kind offer and responding with one of our own: that the firstborn son of King Joffrey be married to Harrold's eldest trueborn daughter, as befits both their stations; additionally, upon the conclusion of this war he may be granted a seat on the small council as a special advisor to the King, on the condition that his forces join ours in subduing the multiple insurrections of the realm." The Grand Maester nodded. "Additionally, the King has granted the request of the Master-at-Arms to fully mobilize the city in preparation for a siege by Stannis Baratheon's army, using whatever means necessary." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her brother and his sellsword smile. "That is all the business of the crown; the meeting is open for the discussion of other matters."
Grand Maester Pycelle stood. "My Lord Hand, a raven from Lord Jeor Mormont has arrived from Castle Black, seeking help against 'dangers from beyond the Wall which threaten the Seven Kingdoms and the realms of men.' Additionally, a brother of the Watch has arrived from the same, and requests an audience with my lord."
"Who is it? Yoren? Bowen Marsh?" Tyrion asked. Oh right, Cersei now remembered, her brothr had journeyed to the Wall when Robert visited Ned Stark and named him Hand. What a pity he did not stay there.
"No." Pycelle shook his head. "A man by the name of Ser Alliser Thorne."
"Alliser Thorne." Tyrion spoke his name the same way Cersei referred to her impish brother. "Tell him that I will see him at my earliest convenience. In the meantime, find him quarters here in the Red Keep - somewhere downwind from the stables. Oh, and while you are at it, go find the loudest whore in King's Landing and house her in the room next door to him - it is well past time I rewarded my friends from the mountain clans." Cersei could not help but smile at her brother's treatment of the black brother; as much as she hated Tyrion, she despised the fools from the penal colony pretending to have a noble duty.
"We must respond to the Lord Commander by raven, nonetheless," the Tyrell girl responded. "A polite but firm rejection, I assume?" The entire small council nodded assent. She looked around, to see if anyone had any other news to report. "Well, if that is all, then I would like to make an announcement. My husband and I are pleased to announce that we are expecting a child."
So...in terms of Kings, things haven't changed yet.
1. Joffrey Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne
2. Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands
3. Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands (deceased)
4. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident
5. Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles (invading the North)
Other important lords:
1. Mace Tyrell, Lord of the Reach.
2. Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne
3. Harrold Hardying, Lord of the Vale
"Stannis Baratheon is coming after us, sooner rather than later. And Robb Stark has won battle after battle in the Riverlands and is marching on Harrenhal. We need their swords."
Her brother had ambushed her outside the small council chamber with the fruit of his new scheme. He had already replaced half the small council with his own men, and she was sure the dwarf was plotting with the Tyrell girl; now he thought he could remove her from the capital entirely. "I am the Queen, not some broodmare, not one of Petyr Baelish's whores bought and sold."
"You are the daughter of the Lord of Casterly Rock; some would say it is what you were born to do, that it's your duty."
"And I married Robert Baratheon and gave birth to three children - I would say my duty is already done."
Tyrion took her hand. "Sweet, sweet sister. Marry Lord Harrold and grant him a seat on the small council, and you can remain here in King's Landing and producing heirs with our dear brother Jaime."
She slapped him. "Do not speak to me like that again unless you want to wake up dressed in black for the rest of your life - if I am feeling generous at the time."
He rubbed his face, but continued. "Cersei, Varys's spies report that a large army has set out from the Vale, and it appears they are headed for Harrenhal - whether or not he attacks Stark's army or joins forces with it will either win or lose us this war; your marriage to the Lord of the Vale is the only thing that guarantees his army will be on our side."
Tyrion tried to continue, but Cersei put up her hand. "Enough. You asked, and my answer is no - and sine I am the Queen Regent and you are merely acting as the Hand of the King, my decision trumps yours; the matter is settled. Now, if you may, there is a council meeting the both of us must attend to." Her brother grimaced, but assented, and opened the door.
The two siblings were the last to arrive, as was not unusual, and on their arrival all in attendance stood - Grand Maester Pycelle, Tyrion's swordwhore Bronn, Lord Varys. All except Margaery Tyrell. What value she brought as the Master of Laws Cersei did not know; she was convinced the only reason her brother had brought the girl on was to infuriate her.
Once everyone settled back in their seats, Cersei began. "Grand Maester Pycelle, at the conclusion of this meeting lease send a raven to the Lord of the Vale thanking him for his kind offer and responding with one of our own: that the firstborn son of King Joffrey be married to Harrold's eldest trueborn daughter, as befits both their stations; additionally, upon the conclusion of this war he may be granted a seat on the small council as a special advisor to the King, on the condition that his forces join ours in subduing the multiple insurrections of the realm." The Grand Maester nodded. "Additionally, the King has granted the request of the Master-at-Arms to fully mobilize the city in preparation for a siege by Stannis Baratheon's army, using whatever means necessary." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her brother and his sellsword smile. "That is all the business of the crown; the meeting is open for the discussion of other matters."
Grand Maester Pycelle stood. "My Lord Hand, a raven from Lord Jeor Mormont has arrived from Castle Black, seeking help against 'dangers from beyond the Wall which threaten the Seven Kingdoms and the realms of men.' Additionally, a brother of the Watch has arrived from the same, and requests an audience with my lord."
"Who is it? Yoren? Bowen Marsh?" Tyrion asked. Oh right, Cersei now remembered, her brothr had journeyed to the Wall when Robert visited Ned Stark and named him Hand. What a pity he did not stay there.
"No." Pycelle shook his head. "A man by the name of Ser Alliser Thorne."
"Alliser Thorne." Tyrion spoke his name the same way Cersei referred to her impish brother. "Tell him that I will see him at my earliest convenience. In the meantime, find him quarters here in the Red Keep - somewhere downwind from the stables. Oh, and while you are at it, go find the loudest whore in King's Landing and house her in the room next door to him - it is well past time I rewarded my friends from the mountain clans." Cersei could not help but smile at her brother's treatment of the black brother; as much as she hated Tyrion, she despised the fools from the penal colony pretending to have a noble duty.
"We must respond to the Lord Commander by raven, nonetheless," the Tyrell girl responded. "A polite but firm rejection, I assume?" The entire small council nodded assent. She looked around, to see if anyone had any other news to report. "Well, if that is all, then I would like to make an announcement. My husband and I are pleased to announce that we are expecting a child."
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
So...in terms of Kings, things haven't changed yet.
1. Joffrey Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne
2. Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands
3. Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands (deceased)
4. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident
5. Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles (invading the North)
Other important lords:
1. Mace Tyrell, Lord of the Reach.
2. Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne
3. Harrold Hardying, Lord of the Vale
I get the feeling if this chapter went even a minute longer, it would feature Cersei being furious, as the arrival of an heir would further weaken her hold over Joffrey, and Tyrion trying not to laugh for the same reason. Now that Mace's grandchild will be heir to the Throne, he is less likely to be one of the unknown kings. Still, I have seen the AI make Mace do some very stupid things...
Cersei would likely try and get Marg drunk and force her to drink moon tea, you know everything possible to shatter the Only hope the Lannisters have in holding onto the Throne. And Tyrion will try his very hardest to keep her from doing that, Poor Tyrion.
The elephant in the room of course is.. What kind of father would Joffery be..?
The elephant in the room of course is.. What kind of father would Joffery be..?
Part IV - Jon
"Edd, that's the signal - sound the horn."
It was the darkest hour of night, but flames painted the sky the colors of dawn. "Aye, Mance wasn't lying - the largest fire the North has ever seen."
Edd shook his head. "No. The largest funeral pyre the world has ever seen - and we're the ones honored with it." With that, he blew the horn.
Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhoooooooooooooooooooo.
At last, the time had come, and the timing could not have been worse. Bowen Marsh had led the majority of the already-thin garrison of Castle Black to defend what had been a feint, despite the advice of both Jon and Janos Slynt - and when two men with mutual dislike agree on something, you better listen; he was not expected back for another half a day, at the least. Alliser Thorne, the most experienced ranger in Castle Black, was still in King's Landing, and although he and Jon did not see eye to eye on, well, anything, he knew that, in this grave hour, the Watch needed his expertise. As it was, fewer than three dozen black brothers remained at Castle Black, and now the free folk decided to attack the Wall. He glanced behind him, where the embers of ruined Mole's Town could still be seen even days later. From two directions.
Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhoooooooooooooooooooo.
Jon studied the defenses. On the Wall, eighteen men armed with bows and over seventeen hundred arrows, plus barrels of oil, frozen ice, the "scythe," and of course, the immense height of the Wall itself. Below, another dozen or so stood guard behind a hastily-constructed gate and wall, ready to repel Tormund's raiding force from the south; although the defenses would clearly not stop the force, it was at least more defensible than Castle Black's normal southern defense - absolutely nothing. All in all, for such a small garrison, it was an impressive defense.
But it was not enough.
With a fierce scream that echoed throughout the North, the wildling battle line charged from the tree lines. At the orders of Qhorin Halfhand, Jon had ridden with the wildlings, gained their trust, and learned their ways and their plans, all to help defend the Wall; he had travelled through the immense army, had seen it up close...but from here, from the top of the Wall, Jon finally had a sense of just how large the wildling army was. Thousands upon thousands of free folk poured from the trees, armed with spears and swords, bows and clubs, many on horseback, many more on foot. Spearheading the assault were two dozen giants mounted on mammoths, two of whom dragged a giant battering ram to break the gate.
When they were within range, Jon attack the men to attack. The next several hours were a blur, as Jon ran along the Wall coordinating the defense. Archers unleashed volley after volley of arrows. Wildlings gathering at the base of the Wall received a barrel of ice for their troubles. Barrels of oil turned the giants' battering ram to ashes. Edd dropped the scythe on climbing wildlings. But they just kept coming, so Jon and his brothers just kept fighting.
Eventually, the voice of Sam Tarly jolted Jon out of his routine. "Jon, abandon the Wall - we need all these men defending the gates."
Jon opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. As he surveyed the battlefield, something felt...different. A cold chill filled the air. "Sam, how long have we been fighting?"
"Several hours, Jon, but I don't see how that's relevant, Castle Black is burning -"
"It should be dawn."
"Yes, Jon, but -"
"So why is it getting darker?"
Suddenly, Pyp came running. "Jon, the wildlings - they've opened the gates!" He pointed down at the wildlings flooding the burning ruins of Castle Black.
Sam tugged at Jon's arm. "You see, Jon, we need to go. Now."
But Jon's attention remained fixed on the horizon. The wind began picking up, a cold wind that chilled him to the bone. In the distance, Mance's fire began to go out...but just moments before, the fire had been raging as high and ferocious as it had ever been. Below, Ghost howled. All around them, it began to snow.
Jon looked at Sam. "Blow the horn."
Incredulous, Sam protested. "There's no need, everyone within miles knows the wildlings are here. They're even inside the Wall!"
But Jon just shook his head and pointed. Another army, even larger than Mance's invaders, emerged from the trees. "Not two blasts. Not the wildlings. Others."
When Jon and the Wall defense finally came down from the Wall, they found utter chaos. Once they heard the three horn blasts, the wildling army went into panic, as those inside the gate fought those stuck on the wrong side of the Wall to shut the gate.
"Sam and Pyp, go to the stables and get as many horses as you can. Edd, Grenn - try to find as many Watchmen as possible. Meet in the clearing east of here as soon as possible." With any luck, they could escape towards Eastwatch-by-the-Sea before the wildling army reorganized, and reassess things from there.
"What are you going to do?" Sam asked.
Jon drew Longclaw. "Find Ghost and get the dragonglass."
"Alright then, let's get moving," Edd added. "I'd much rather die trying to get out of this mess than sitting here talking like chickens."
Jon turned and surveyed the battlefield. All around him, the few remaining black brothers were slowly getting overwhelmed by the hordes of wildlings; to the west, a horn sounded, and a number of wildlings turned to face Bowen Marsh's reinforcements. Even more were looting whatever they could scavenge from the burning remnants of the castle. Fortunately, very few had found their way over to the kennels, where Ghost - and the dragonglass - were.
He sprinted in that direction, sidestepping wildling blades and trying to avoid conflict. Somehow, he made it all the way there before hearing a voice behind him. "Where do you think you're going, crow?"
Tormund Giantsbane stood over him, sword drawn. "I'm not your enemy, Tormund. The Night's Watch isn't your enemy. The White Walkers are both our enemies." The wildling just glowered at him, but he went on. "I'm going east, to Eastwatch. Tell Mance that we need to stop fighting. Do you think the Wall is going to stop the Others for long? Only together can we stop them."
"I'll tell you what, crow," Tormund said, sheathing his sword. "The elders want blood. I can't stop them from attacking the remaining crow castles before we keep running south with our tail between our legs. But I'll convince them to attack the other one first, and hopefully spare you some time. Go to Eastwatch, and then flee. You want to continue your losing fight? Enjoy dying." With that, he turned and left.
Jon grabbed the glass, released Ghost, and found Sam, Pyp, Edd, Grenn, and nine others waiting for him. With one last look at the flames of Castle Black, they set forth for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.
And then there were six:
1. Joffrey Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne
2. Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands
3. Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands (deceased)
4. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident
5. Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles (invading the North)
6. Mance Rayder, King-Beyond-the-Wall (invading the North)
Other important lords:
1. Mace Tyrell, Lord of the Reach.
2. Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne
3. Harrold Hardying, Lord of the Vale
Things just got a whole lot more complicated...and, yes, in-game, Jon Snow was elected Lord Commander at Jeor Mormont's death.
"Edd, that's the signal - sound the horn."
It was the darkest hour of night, but flames painted the sky the colors of dawn. "Aye, Mance wasn't lying - the largest fire the North has ever seen."
Edd shook his head. "No. The largest funeral pyre the world has ever seen - and we're the ones honored with it." With that, he blew the horn.
Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhoooooooooooooooooooo.
At last, the time had come, and the timing could not have been worse. Bowen Marsh had led the majority of the already-thin garrison of Castle Black to defend what had been a feint, despite the advice of both Jon and Janos Slynt - and when two men with mutual dislike agree on something, you better listen; he was not expected back for another half a day, at the least. Alliser Thorne, the most experienced ranger in Castle Black, was still in King's Landing, and although he and Jon did not see eye to eye on, well, anything, he knew that, in this grave hour, the Watch needed his expertise. As it was, fewer than three dozen black brothers remained at Castle Black, and now the free folk decided to attack the Wall. He glanced behind him, where the embers of ruined Mole's Town could still be seen even days later. From two directions.
Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhoooooooooooooooooooo.
Jon studied the defenses. On the Wall, eighteen men armed with bows and over seventeen hundred arrows, plus barrels of oil, frozen ice, the "scythe," and of course, the immense height of the Wall itself. Below, another dozen or so stood guard behind a hastily-constructed gate and wall, ready to repel Tormund's raiding force from the south; although the defenses would clearly not stop the force, it was at least more defensible than Castle Black's normal southern defense - absolutely nothing. All in all, for such a small garrison, it was an impressive defense.
But it was not enough.
With a fierce scream that echoed throughout the North, the wildling battle line charged from the tree lines. At the orders of Qhorin Halfhand, Jon had ridden with the wildlings, gained their trust, and learned their ways and their plans, all to help defend the Wall; he had travelled through the immense army, had seen it up close...but from here, from the top of the Wall, Jon finally had a sense of just how large the wildling army was. Thousands upon thousands of free folk poured from the trees, armed with spears and swords, bows and clubs, many on horseback, many more on foot. Spearheading the assault were two dozen giants mounted on mammoths, two of whom dragged a giant battering ram to break the gate.
When they were within range, Jon attack the men to attack. The next several hours were a blur, as Jon ran along the Wall coordinating the defense. Archers unleashed volley after volley of arrows. Wildlings gathering at the base of the Wall received a barrel of ice for their troubles. Barrels of oil turned the giants' battering ram to ashes. Edd dropped the scythe on climbing wildlings. But they just kept coming, so Jon and his brothers just kept fighting.
Eventually, the voice of Sam Tarly jolted Jon out of his routine. "Jon, abandon the Wall - we need all these men defending the gates."
Jon opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. As he surveyed the battlefield, something felt...different. A cold chill filled the air. "Sam, how long have we been fighting?"
"Several hours, Jon, but I don't see how that's relevant, Castle Black is burning -"
"It should be dawn."
"Yes, Jon, but -"
"So why is it getting darker?"
Suddenly, Pyp came running. "Jon, the wildlings - they've opened the gates!" He pointed down at the wildlings flooding the burning ruins of Castle Black.
Sam tugged at Jon's arm. "You see, Jon, we need to go. Now."
But Jon's attention remained fixed on the horizon. The wind began picking up, a cold wind that chilled him to the bone. In the distance, Mance's fire began to go out...but just moments before, the fire had been raging as high and ferocious as it had ever been. Below, Ghost howled. All around them, it began to snow.
Jon looked at Sam. "Blow the horn."
Incredulous, Sam protested. "There's no need, everyone within miles knows the wildlings are here. They're even inside the Wall!"
But Jon just shook his head and pointed. Another army, even larger than Mance's invaders, emerged from the trees. "Not two blasts. Not the wildlings. Others."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
When Jon and the Wall defense finally came down from the Wall, they found utter chaos. Once they heard the three horn blasts, the wildling army went into panic, as those inside the gate fought those stuck on the wrong side of the Wall to shut the gate.
"Sam and Pyp, go to the stables and get as many horses as you can. Edd, Grenn - try to find as many Watchmen as possible. Meet in the clearing east of here as soon as possible." With any luck, they could escape towards Eastwatch-by-the-Sea before the wildling army reorganized, and reassess things from there.
"What are you going to do?" Sam asked.
Jon drew Longclaw. "Find Ghost and get the dragonglass."
"Alright then, let's get moving," Edd added. "I'd much rather die trying to get out of this mess than sitting here talking like chickens."
Jon turned and surveyed the battlefield. All around him, the few remaining black brothers were slowly getting overwhelmed by the hordes of wildlings; to the west, a horn sounded, and a number of wildlings turned to face Bowen Marsh's reinforcements. Even more were looting whatever they could scavenge from the burning remnants of the castle. Fortunately, very few had found their way over to the kennels, where Ghost - and the dragonglass - were.
He sprinted in that direction, sidestepping wildling blades and trying to avoid conflict. Somehow, he made it all the way there before hearing a voice behind him. "Where do you think you're going, crow?"
Tormund Giantsbane stood over him, sword drawn. "I'm not your enemy, Tormund. The Night's Watch isn't your enemy. The White Walkers are both our enemies." The wildling just glowered at him, but he went on. "I'm going east, to Eastwatch. Tell Mance that we need to stop fighting. Do you think the Wall is going to stop the Others for long? Only together can we stop them."
"I'll tell you what, crow," Tormund said, sheathing his sword. "The elders want blood. I can't stop them from attacking the remaining crow castles before we keep running south with our tail between our legs. But I'll convince them to attack the other one first, and hopefully spare you some time. Go to Eastwatch, and then flee. You want to continue your losing fight? Enjoy dying." With that, he turned and left.
Jon grabbed the glass, released Ghost, and found Sam, Pyp, Edd, Grenn, and nine others waiting for him. With one last look at the flames of Castle Black, they set forth for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
And then there were six:
1. Joffrey Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne
2. Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands
3. Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands (deceased)
4. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident
5. Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles (invading the North)
6. Mance Rayder, King-Beyond-the-Wall (invading the North)
Other important lords:
1. Mace Tyrell, Lord of the Reach.
2. Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne
3. Harrold Hardying, Lord of the Vale
Things just got a whole lot more complicated...and, yes, in-game, Jon Snow was elected Lord Commander at Jeor Mormont's death.
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Welp, there goes The Wall: and I don't even mean lost to the Wildlings. I mean I'm better that the Others are going to pretty much steamroll Mance Rayder and end up with a border with The North. This... this is going to be interesting.
Joffrey will take this as good news, because it means another army fighting Robb Stark, but everyone with a brain knows this is very bad. No one will believe the story about the Others for now though. Three more kings to enter the war though... Just curious, is Ygritte alive?
Dang it Stannis, You had one job! One Job!
Assuming the Tyrells stay loyal, Doran Dany and Aegon are next?
Assuming the Tyrells stay loyal, Doran Dany and Aegon are next?
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Part V - Tyrion
His back ached, his behind was sore, and his feet did not reach the floor, but no place existed where Tyrion felt more powerful than when he sat on the Iron Throne as Hand of the King.
Most days, Tyrion, Bronn, and Jacelyn Bywater attended to the defenses of King's Landing - training the men, storing supplies, and devising defensive plans. However, at Queen Margaery's insistence, the small council decided that representatives of the Crown would hold court in Joffrey's name. He did this twice a week, listening to and dealing with the problems of noblemen and smallfolk alike. On most days, he and Margaery tackled the crowds together, with the Queen seated on the Iron Throne and Tyrion at her side, but given that her child was due any moment (despite Cersei's great efforts), Tyrion had been holding court on his own the past few weeks.
In either case, Joffrey was kept as far away from court proceedings as possible; even Cersei supported that decision. Although the boy wanted to be involved with affairs, the small council found ways for to keep the King occupied, first by helping him secure the defenses, then, once the Queen was with child, teaching him about fatherhood and running a family. What exactly he did Tyrion did not truly care, so long as he did nothing to ruin the city's defenses or give the smallfolk even more reason to despise him. Joffrey may have been King, but it was the governing of Tyrion and Margaery that had kept him there, at least so far.
"Thank you, my lord. You are most wise, my lord." The latest petitioner, a merchant whose stores were plundered by goldcloaks, bowed his head and left. Wise, Tyrion thought. Well, no angry mobs have killed me yet, so I guess that counts for something.
Tyrion called to the Kingsguard on duty. "Ser Loras, how many more seek an audience with the Crown today?"
"One more, my lord."
"Send him in."
He was a tall man, and as thin - no, gaunt - as he was tall, with a short and neatly-groomed beard, and dressed in a subtle but clearly very expensive robe. "My lord," he began. "I am Tycho Nestoris, the Westeros representative of the Iron Bank."
Tyrion cursed under his breath; he did not have the time to deal with the Iron Bank - and more importantly, the crown did not have the money. "You are here regarding the Crown's debts, I presume? I assure you, once the war is over, the Iron Bank will have its money."
The Braavosi nodded. "I am confident in that, my lord, but I am not here for the money, or at least not all of it. You are late on your interest payments, and I am here to collect, among other things."
That was a problem. The interest payments often came from Casterly Rock, Tyrion had learned when examining the books. "I do not suppose that the Crown could take out another loan to pay the interest payments of the first, I presume." Nestoris laughed, but there was little warmth there. "I was afraid that was to be your reaction." Tyrion squirmed in his seat; the Iron Throne really was uncomfortable. "You said you had other matters to discuss."
"Yes, my lord. In recent weeks Westerosi pirates have been ravaging shipping lanes in the Narrow Sea. Entire ships have been disappearing, and very few men have survived to speak of the encounters. These men say these pirates come from all over Westeros...and they have made the mistake of attacking a ship carrying wealth of the Iron Bank. The losses are almost double that of what the Iron Throne owes to the Bank, plus the ship and three dozen employees. My investors want answers, my lord."
Pirates. There were always pirates in the Narrow Sea, but very rarely were they so vicious, if the banker's tales could be believed, and even rarer were they from Westeros. But Tyrion could not risk angering the Iron Bank any more; he had to tread carefully. "I am deeply sorry; we will do everything we can to bring these pirates to justice."
"My investors do not want justice, my lord. They want their money."
Tyrion sighed. Only one thing would send the man away. "The Crown will take on any and all debts these pirates incur with the Iron Bank."
Nestoris smiled. "Very good, my lord. You are most prudent." With that, he mercilessly departed.
With much awkwardness, Tyrion stood, careful not to cut himself on the Throne's many blades. "Well that's enough for today." Just that one conversation wore Tyrion out. But, unfortunately, Tyrion returned to the Tower of the Hand to find Varys and Bronn waiting for him.
"Since a eunuch is here I gather you two are not here to drink wine and hire some of Littlefinger's girls." Bronn laughed, and Varys smiled. "I feared as much. Very well."
As they enjoyed a modest dinner - Tyrion, like most in the Red Keep, kept his table fairly modest while the city stored food in preparation for a siege - Bronn began to fill Tyrion in on the preparations for the siege.
"...which brings the number of goldcloaks to six thousand." Bronn picked up a leg of chicken. "Tomorrow we will introduce the green paint to the men."
Tyrion nodded. "Very well. Varys, what have you to report?"
"Shall I give you the good news or the bad news first, my good Hand?"
He picked up his wine. "Give me the bad news first. That way, I'll feel inclined to drink, and drunk me will find the news even better for it."
"Very well. My little birdies say the Red Viper has marched from Dorne with his five daughters and five hundred men, headed for King's Landing. His intentions, at the moment, are unknown. Furthermore, Ser Davos has united several pirates to support Stannis, whose army grows daily as it marches north. And lastly, Joffrey has been, well, enjoying himself with some of the maid girls and girls in the dungeons. One of them, a Northerner named Jeyne Pool, is with child."
Oberyn Martell marches north; he could only want one thing: dead Lannisters. As for Joffrey, he would have to deal with the boy's deviances later. Picking up his glass, he responded. "Well then, you said you have some good news."
The Spider nodded. "Aye, my lord. Harrold Hardying slaughtered Robb Stark's army at Harrenhal and pillaged the castle. There were few survivors, and reports indicate that Robb Stark may have been gravely wounded in the battle. I cannot be certain on the details, however, for even my little birdies did not escape the destruction; the closest reports come from nearby villages."
For the first time in months, Tyrion felt a twinge of hope. "Excellent; it seems we have the Vale on our side, and the fewer the enemy armies in the field, the better. It will take the Starks at least a year to assemble another force capable of threatening us." He sipped his wine. "This means that, for the first time since the war began, we are not surrounded by enemies on all sides, so long the people of King's Landing do not revolt against us."
"You do not give yourself enough credit," Varys said. "The people love their Queen and Her Hand, although they have no respect for Joffrey."
"Nonsense, Lord Varys, that is utter nonsense. The smallfolk call us the Queen and her monkey."
"Aye," the eunuch countered. "But they used to call you the Queen Whore and her Demon Monkey."
The Six Kings:
1. Joffrey Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne
2. Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands
3. Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands (deceased)
4. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident
5. Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles (invading the North)
6. Mance Rayder, King-Beyond-the-Wall (invading the North)
Other important lords:
1. Mace Tyrell, Lord of the Reach.
2. Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne
3. Harrold Hardying, Lord of the Vale
4. Oberyn Martell, Lord of Plankytown
His back ached, his behind was sore, and his feet did not reach the floor, but no place existed where Tyrion felt more powerful than when he sat on the Iron Throne as Hand of the King.
Most days, Tyrion, Bronn, and Jacelyn Bywater attended to the defenses of King's Landing - training the men, storing supplies, and devising defensive plans. However, at Queen Margaery's insistence, the small council decided that representatives of the Crown would hold court in Joffrey's name. He did this twice a week, listening to and dealing with the problems of noblemen and smallfolk alike. On most days, he and Margaery tackled the crowds together, with the Queen seated on the Iron Throne and Tyrion at her side, but given that her child was due any moment (despite Cersei's great efforts), Tyrion had been holding court on his own the past few weeks.
In either case, Joffrey was kept as far away from court proceedings as possible; even Cersei supported that decision. Although the boy wanted to be involved with affairs, the small council found ways for to keep the King occupied, first by helping him secure the defenses, then, once the Queen was with child, teaching him about fatherhood and running a family. What exactly he did Tyrion did not truly care, so long as he did nothing to ruin the city's defenses or give the smallfolk even more reason to despise him. Joffrey may have been King, but it was the governing of Tyrion and Margaery that had kept him there, at least so far.
"Thank you, my lord. You are most wise, my lord." The latest petitioner, a merchant whose stores were plundered by goldcloaks, bowed his head and left. Wise, Tyrion thought. Well, no angry mobs have killed me yet, so I guess that counts for something.
Tyrion called to the Kingsguard on duty. "Ser Loras, how many more seek an audience with the Crown today?"
"One more, my lord."
"Send him in."
He was a tall man, and as thin - no, gaunt - as he was tall, with a short and neatly-groomed beard, and dressed in a subtle but clearly very expensive robe. "My lord," he began. "I am Tycho Nestoris, the Westeros representative of the Iron Bank."
Tyrion cursed under his breath; he did not have the time to deal with the Iron Bank - and more importantly, the crown did not have the money. "You are here regarding the Crown's debts, I presume? I assure you, once the war is over, the Iron Bank will have its money."
The Braavosi nodded. "I am confident in that, my lord, but I am not here for the money, or at least not all of it. You are late on your interest payments, and I am here to collect, among other things."
That was a problem. The interest payments often came from Casterly Rock, Tyrion had learned when examining the books. "I do not suppose that the Crown could take out another loan to pay the interest payments of the first, I presume." Nestoris laughed, but there was little warmth there. "I was afraid that was to be your reaction." Tyrion squirmed in his seat; the Iron Throne really was uncomfortable. "You said you had other matters to discuss."
"Yes, my lord. In recent weeks Westerosi pirates have been ravaging shipping lanes in the Narrow Sea. Entire ships have been disappearing, and very few men have survived to speak of the encounters. These men say these pirates come from all over Westeros...and they have made the mistake of attacking a ship carrying wealth of the Iron Bank. The losses are almost double that of what the Iron Throne owes to the Bank, plus the ship and three dozen employees. My investors want answers, my lord."
Pirates. There were always pirates in the Narrow Sea, but very rarely were they so vicious, if the banker's tales could be believed, and even rarer were they from Westeros. But Tyrion could not risk angering the Iron Bank any more; he had to tread carefully. "I am deeply sorry; we will do everything we can to bring these pirates to justice."
"My investors do not want justice, my lord. They want their money."
Tyrion sighed. Only one thing would send the man away. "The Crown will take on any and all debts these pirates incur with the Iron Bank."
Nestoris smiled. "Very good, my lord. You are most prudent." With that, he mercilessly departed.
With much awkwardness, Tyrion stood, careful not to cut himself on the Throne's many blades. "Well that's enough for today." Just that one conversation wore Tyrion out. But, unfortunately, Tyrion returned to the Tower of the Hand to find Varys and Bronn waiting for him.
"Since a eunuch is here I gather you two are not here to drink wine and hire some of Littlefinger's girls." Bronn laughed, and Varys smiled. "I feared as much. Very well."
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
As they enjoyed a modest dinner - Tyrion, like most in the Red Keep, kept his table fairly modest while the city stored food in preparation for a siege - Bronn began to fill Tyrion in on the preparations for the siege.
"...which brings the number of goldcloaks to six thousand." Bronn picked up a leg of chicken. "Tomorrow we will introduce the green paint to the men."
Tyrion nodded. "Very well. Varys, what have you to report?"
"Shall I give you the good news or the bad news first, my good Hand?"
He picked up his wine. "Give me the bad news first. That way, I'll feel inclined to drink, and drunk me will find the news even better for it."
"Very well. My little birdies say the Red Viper has marched from Dorne with his five daughters and five hundred men, headed for King's Landing. His intentions, at the moment, are unknown. Furthermore, Ser Davos has united several pirates to support Stannis, whose army grows daily as it marches north. And lastly, Joffrey has been, well, enjoying himself with some of the maid girls and girls in the dungeons. One of them, a Northerner named Jeyne Pool, is with child."
Oberyn Martell marches north; he could only want one thing: dead Lannisters. As for Joffrey, he would have to deal with the boy's deviances later. Picking up his glass, he responded. "Well then, you said you have some good news."
The Spider nodded. "Aye, my lord. Harrold Hardying slaughtered Robb Stark's army at Harrenhal and pillaged the castle. There were few survivors, and reports indicate that Robb Stark may have been gravely wounded in the battle. I cannot be certain on the details, however, for even my little birdies did not escape the destruction; the closest reports come from nearby villages."
For the first time in months, Tyrion felt a twinge of hope. "Excellent; it seems we have the Vale on our side, and the fewer the enemy armies in the field, the better. It will take the Starks at least a year to assemble another force capable of threatening us." He sipped his wine. "This means that, for the first time since the war began, we are not surrounded by enemies on all sides, so long the people of King's Landing do not revolt against us."
"You do not give yourself enough credit," Varys said. "The people love their Queen and Her Hand, although they have no respect for Joffrey."
"Nonsense, Lord Varys, that is utter nonsense. The smallfolk call us the Queen and her monkey."
"Aye," the eunuch countered. "But they used to call you the Queen Whore and her Demon Monkey."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Six Kings:
1. Joffrey Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne
2. Stannis Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands
3. Renly Baratheon, Lord of the Stormlands (deceased)
4. Robb Stark, King in the North and of the Trident
5. Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles (invading the North)
6. Mance Rayder, King-Beyond-the-Wall (invading the North)
Other important lords:
1. Mace Tyrell, Lord of the Reach.
2. Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne
3. Harrold Hardying, Lord of the Vale
4. Oberyn Martell, Lord of Plankytown